


Remember Me

by LizzytheWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Blood Loss, Depression, F/M, Hallucinations, Memory Loss, Paralyzation, So much angst, Spiders, Supernatural - Freeform, canon!divergent, canon!verse, really bad hangovers, semi-permanent amnesia, spiders everywhere, the reader develops a small drinking problem, wraiths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 05:20:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7788244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzytheWriter/pseuds/LizzytheWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is the love of your life, but when a hunt goes wrong and suddenly the last nine months of your lives are gone how will you cope? And what happens when a possible cure goes wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Little angst. Little Sam. Nothing you won’t enjoy. Oh but there is this wraith issue in Miami. Might want to check in on that. 
> 
> p.s. I’m really feeling the dry dead humor right now. If you hadn’t picked that up yet. Oh and if you don’t like blood, or spiders, or being paralyzed, you’ve been warned. Also thank you to a certain awesome buddy for proofing this for me!

“Sam! Sam look at me! Sam please!” You held your tall lover’s face as he lay on the hard ground, slipping in and out of consciousness. There was a line of blood running out of his ear and the deep puncture wound at the base of his neck. He was slipping fast and you could only sit there and put pressure on the wound, trying to keep his attention while you waited for Dean to help you carry him to the car and then hospital. “Dammit!”

**A Few Hours Earlier…**

“Oh come on Sam, is this really necessary?” You squirmed in the new suit you were wearing while you walked to the local police department. The moose-like man walking next to you just laughed, amused by your discomfort. 

“Yes (y/n), it’s very necessary. You have to look the part if you want to start coming with us on hunts, that was part of the deal remember?” You huffed loudly, clearly remembering your conversation with Dean and Sam earlier that week. After you had moved into the bunker with Sam, the brothers had very effectively kept you grounded on “research” while they ran cases from the ground, and at last you had had enough of it. 

You were a well respected hunter in your own right. You had run solo for years before you met the Winchesters and had done perfectly fine without them during that time. People in the hunting community respected and feared you for all the right reasons. You got that Sam wanted to protect you and that Dean was just supporting that, but honestly, there was no reason for them to be this overprotective of you. 

When you had finally expressed your feelings to the two, there had been some shouting and a lot of careful discussion, negotiation if you will, to get yourself back in the field. Finally after a compromise had been settled on, you and the boys had found your way down to Miami, Florida. People had been turning up dead in hotel rooms with strange lacerations that were being pinned as drug abuse; but the increased number of deaths and the way the bodies were found made you all suspicious.  

And that brought you to now, wearing a new suit, which while very suited to the job, was uncomfortable and unfortunately part of the agreement for you to hunt. You were much more unorthodox in your investigative style than the boys. You didn’t typically go for the whole fed thing; mostly you broke into databases and stole what you needed, and when that wasn’t going to pan out you played victim and played your way into the police stations that way. But as per your agreement you would play the boring FBI card, which included the suit. And you hated this suit with a burning passion. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, it just made you feel vulnerable and restricted your movement, giving you a claustrophobic feeling whereever you were wearing it. 

Finally you got to the police station, and following Sam’s lead, you were shown to the coroner’s office. She was pretty in a modest kind of way, gentle black curls and peach lips set off her curved face. “Hello, Miss-” Sam paused to allow her to fill in her name. 

“Clemens, Diane Clemens.” She smiled at you both, standing and holding out her hand. Sam took it giving a strong shake and you quickly followed suit. “How can I help you two?” She smiled charmingly at the both of you. 

“Well Miss Clemens, I’m agent Nash and this is agent Jett with the FBI,” you  both pulled out your badges and flashed them at her quickly. She nodded in recognition and Sam continued talking, “We’re here about the recent deaths in the county, the ones being treated as drug related?” She nodded in confirmation. 

“Yes, they’re pretty regular for around here. Why is the FBI interested?” 

“We think that the deaths may be connected to a drug cartel that we’ve been trying to pin down for a while now.” Her eyes widened and she nodded quickly at Sam as you continued, picking up where Sam had left off. 

“Could we have a look at the bodies? We think there may be some evidence on them that could have been overlooked without the proper information.” She creased her eyebrows as she looked down at her desk. 

“Well, do you have the release forms already filled out?” You caught Sam’s eyes quickly unsure how to answer. He gestured for you to calm down as panic made you go stiff. This. This was why you didn’t do things this way. 

“No, you know we don’t usually just carry them with us and it’s been a long drive.” Sam explained lightly, “maybe there’s a way to see the bodies without them?” The coroner just shook her head apologetically.

“I’m sorry, really I am. I can understand that you’d want to see them right away, but I really can’t let you into the morgue without a release form to put on file.” Sam smiled kindly at her and nodded. 

“Of course I understand. I’ll talk to my superior and get the correct authorization. Thank you very much for your time.” He shook her hand and grabbed your shoulder steering you out of the offices in the police station. 

“Do I even need to say it?” You looked up at him once you had gotten out to the Impala. He smirked at you. 

“You don’t have to rub it in (y/n), breaking and entering isn’t always the best plan either. But looks like that’s what we’ll be doing tonight. We’ll come back about 11 when the place is mostly empty.” You nodded sliding into the passenger side. 

“So now I guess we go pick up Dean, see what he’s come up with?” You placed a hand on Sam’s squeezing it gently. His fingers curled around yours and he smiled kindly.

“Yep.” He replied quietly before kissing you gently.

* * *

Once you had gotten Dean from the library, and after listening to his bellyaching about research and bad food, you all settled into your motel room and filled him in on your issue. He quickly agreed that breaking and entering was better than trying to lie even more to the coroner. Dean then filled the two of you in on what he had found in the local papers and articles online. It looked like all of the victims had large lacerations in their necks, which the police were pining on a new drug delivery system, but Dean was almost certain they were dealing with a wraith or vampire. 

“It’s more than likely a wraith though,” Dean explained, “the way that the lacerations are described sounds less like a bite and more like a brain straw to me.” 

“Well then we need to be really careful about strangers.” Sam commented from his side of the room where he was cleaning up and checking the lock picks. 

“What’d you mean?” You looked at them both curiously. You weren’t a stranger to wraiths, but you’d only ever taken on one and it had been an accident, you had thought you were facing a shifter, and it was only luck that silver killed them both.  

Dean filled you in explaining,“Wraiths drive their victims crazy with a toxin they secrete through their skin, the one we ran into a while back was holed up in an asylum using the crazy as a way to hide their feeding. Like a vampire working in a hospital you know? But a lot more brutal.” 

“More brutal how? I mean if the people were going crazy already— ”  

Sam cut you off, “They feed off of human brains, they lacerate you at the base of the neck and suck them out using a long feeding spine in their arm.” 

“Oh.” Suddenly you were feeling a lot luckier about the one you had killed then before. 

* * *

The three of you filled the next few hours with the occasional drink, a few laughs, and prep for breaking and entering. The lock picks were all cleaned, the guns checks, knives sharpened. The plan was to go down quick and quiet, just the way you liked, break into the morgue, have Dean stand watch while you and Sam checked out the bodies that were still being stored at the station. And at about 10:45 the three of you drove down, parked a block away and broke in. 

Dean stood watch, keeping an eye out for the night shift and curious bystanders. You and Sam found your way through the station to the morgue, keeping quiet and dodging the night watch and the dispatchers office. Getting into the morgue was no trouble, you found the bodies and were checking their necks and head cavities when suddenly your vision swam, the room spinning in front of you. 

“Sammy…” you muttered slowly, unsure of your ability to speak, “Sammy… Why’s the room spinning?” He turned to look at you, dropping some poor sap’s cranium as he jumped to catch you right before you stumbled into the autopsy table. 

“Whoa there honey, what are you talking about? The rooms not….” He stopped abruptly as something moved in the shadows across the room. “Who’s there?” He demanded loudly. 

“Oh don’t you recognize me?” A sickly sweet voice answered, and the coroner stepped forward and leaned against the table lazily. 

“You?!” Sam held you close to him, as the room continued to spin around you in psychedelic swirls that made you giggle. 

“Oh don’t look so surprised. This is a pretty sweet gig if I’m completely honest. You’d be amazed by the number of monsters that inhabit pretty regular jobs to get away with our… dietary needs.” 

“I’m sure.” Sam glared at her, then looked down at you. You had started to phase in and out of consciousness, going limp in his arms. He was starting to realize that you weren’t going to be too much use in this fight, and pretty soon he wouldn’t be either. Looking back up at the wraith who was beginning to make her way around the autopsy tables towards the two of you, he set you down on the floor, sliding you under the table the two of you were crouched by. 

From under your table you could see Sam stand and pull a knife. you were confused, the room was starting to stop spinning but now there were spiders all over the walls, but you couldn’t scream. You couldn’t move. You were stuck laying there under the table. And all you could do is listen as the ghoul and Sam faced off. There was mindless droning coming from their mouths at first, and then they were fighting, you saw Sam sail from one side of the room to the other as his own psychotic break started to set in and the wraith began to overpower him. You had to do something, but you couldn’t move! You tried to ignore the spiders that were crawling all over the walls as you forced your body to feel again, desperately trying to move something.

Eventually, you saw the wraith pin Sam to the wall, a long spine protruding from her arm, and as you watched in horror, your body finally responded and you leapt up from your hiding space, pushing the ghoul to the ground hard, but it was too late. Sam fell to the ground with a sickening thud, and you could see the puncture in his neck where the bitch had started to feed on him. You pulled your knife, and turned to attack the monster, but she was gone. 

You ripped some of Sam’s flannel and held it to his neck as you cradled your lover’s head in your hands. You needed to get him to a hospital. But to do that you would need Dean’s help. Dean. Dean didn’t know about the ghoul. You pulled your cell from your pocket and dialed Dean. When he picked up you were practically shouting at him. “Dean! The wraith! She’s here, she’s, she’s” you were stuttering as you tried to force the words out quickly, “she’s posing as the coroner, she attacked us, we’re both tripping on whatever crap it is that she hit us with! Dean, she’s not here anymore, but Sam’s hurt! What, what do I do— ”

“Hey, hey, hey! Calm down! How bad is Sam?” 

“He’s bad Dean, I think she got a chance to feed on him, but I’m not sure how much damage was done. he’s not conscious that I can tell….” There was silence on the other end of the line and you could imagine Dean running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Dean?” 

“Alright, you stay there with him, I’m coming in, okay?” 

“Okay, be careful Dean.” And the line went dead. You looked down at Sam’s face, it was almost peaceful, if it wasn’t pale as a sheet and bruised. You rocked his head a little as you held pressure on his neck. 

“Sam! Sam look at me! Sam please!” You held your tall lover’s face as he lay on the hard ground, slipping in and out of consciousness. There was a line of blood running out of his ear and the deep puncture wound at the base of his neck. He was slipping fast and you could only sit there and put pressure on the wound, trying to keep his attention while you waited for Dean to help you carry him to the car and then hospital. “Dammit!”

Suddenly you heard a loud scream, and the spiders on the walls disappeared. Dean must have killed the bitch. Good. Now there were loud boots running towards you and you heard Dean run into the morgue. 

You continued to hold Sam, still unconscious in the Impala as Dean raced to the nearest hospital. He was still breathing and he had a pulse, even if it was weak. Once you got there Dean scooped Sam out of your arms and ran him into the ER and you followed him slowly, fearful of the consequences that would come with this hunt. 

You and Dean waited for hours, pacing in the waiting area, downing cup after cup of coffee, when finally someone came to tell you that Sam was going to be okay, and he would be waking up soon. 

You both nearly sprinted to the room where Sam was being taken care of and you each took a side and held one of his hands as he slowly woke up. 

He looked up at the both of you, a smile crossed his face when he saw Dean, but as you smiled weakly at him, he just stared, taking his hand from yours, confusion filling his big eyes.

“Uh, hey Dean…. and? Who’s this?” 


	2. Some Assembly Required

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets really fucking drunk (excuse my language but it’s true) after an incident that compromises her long term relationship with our darling little Sammy. Dean is a useful best friend and bro, and Cas makes a guest appearance. There is some fluff to sate you until next time I promise. Oh and there is a little self loathing if that is triggering for anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling sequel to “Remember Me” has come. Now I intended to finish this off here, but as chance would have it it’s not going to happen like that. My word count was getting too high and I felt like to do this justice it needed three pieces. So you’re getting three pieces. I suspect by the end of next week you will have the suspenseful finale. Will they actually fix Sam? I just don’t know guys. (Well actually I do. But thats for me to know and you to guess at.)

Four weeks had passed since Sam had woken up. Four weeks since your heart had shattered with just a few words.  

 _“and… Who’s this?”_  Your heart still dropped thinking about that moment and what had followed. The confusion in Sam’s eyes, the pain that had ripped through you when you realized that he didn’t remember you. You had recoiled in shock, stepping back away from your lover’s bedside, straight into a table that you hadn’t seen. You tripped a little, and shooting Dean a panicked look you raced from the room and into the hall; bracing yourself against a wall outside the room with your forearms, your head in your hands you let the tears come. There was no point in hiding your shock and pain.

When your eyes had finally dried, and you could breathe again you walked yourself out of the hospital in silence.  You were in desperate need of a drink, anything to numb the pain that was coursing through you. As you wandered back to the motel you and the boys had been occupying you were oblivious to the buzzing that came from your jacket pocket, the numerous car horns that sounded at you as you walked along the side of the road, and the stares and gasps from people on the sidewalk. You passed a liquor store on the way to the motel. Deciding that tonight you needed to drink alone, you stopped and picked up your choice of poison, using a false credit account to pay for your bender. 

Eventually you slumped into the motel room, and collapsed on your bed. Well for now, but if Sam didn’t remember who you were you doubted he would want to share a bed with a total stranger. When you had the strength to pull yourself off of the garishly patterned sheets, you took a look at yourself in the mirror, a little shocked at what you saw. You weren’t too badly beaten up per-say, Sam had taken the brunt of the fighting when the wraith ambushed you. But your eyes were red and inflamed, your hair was a mess from pulling and playing with it while you had waited in the hospital, and you were just about as pale and clammy looking as Sammy had been on the floor of that morgue. 

That should have been you. A voice in the back of your head whispered to you.  _That should have been you. But you weren’t strong enough to fight it. The poison got to you first because you are weak._  You nodded at yourself in the mirror, agreeing with the voice. You were weak. It was right.  _You should have been there to protect him._  But now he didn’t even know your face. And something deep and dark inside you told you that this was a just punishment for being unable to protect the man you loved. And so you drank. Everything. 

You weren’t sure how you stomached it or how you even survived the experience in the end. But you drank like you had never before, you mixed every kind of liquor you had, working your way through several assorted bottles of whiskey, vodka, tequila, and beer. And then black. 

You didn’t remember much after the whiskey and vodka. You knew that Dean had found you the next morning when he had finally let Sam out of his sight, letting him rest in the hospital for now. He cleaned you up some, got you off the floor and onto the bed where you could rest more comfortably; made sure that the blinds were as closed as possible and that all of the alcohol not consumed was safely locked in the trunk of the car, and that the empty bottles and cans were all gone by the time you woke up. 

When you finally did regain consciousness it was close to noon the next day. Your head was pounding like a bass drum and even with the blinds drawn the little light there was in the room sent shooting pains through your skull. Finally pulling yourself from the bed that you didn’t remember crashing on, you made a beeline for the bathroom. Looking at yourself in the mirror you could see that you were no better than you had been the day before, and reckoning a shower was in order you stumbled back out into the main room, briefly acknowledged Dean’s sleeping figure on the other bed, grabbed clothes and took a nice long shower followed by some aspirin. 

While you had been in the shower Dean had woken up and left a note saying he would be back with food, and true to his word about ten minutes after you got out of the bathroom Dean was back with cheese burgers and fries. 

“There’s nothing better for a bad hangover than greasy food and aspirin.” He said handing you a wrapped burger. You nodded gratefully, not really feeling like talking, and slowly began to eat. “What you did last night was really stupid (y/n),” Dean said filling the tense silence that had filled the room, “We were really worried about you, you just disappeared. I went out to find you and you were gone.” 

“Sorry… I just couldn’t be there, not to see him stare at me like a stranger.” 

“I know that hurt,” you tried to rebuke him but he stopped you and continued, “No, (y/n), I know it hurt. But you should have picked up the damn phone at least.” You did vaguely remember your phone buzzing and you looked down a little ashamed that you had been so selfish as to not answer it. 

“Yeah… I guess that was pretty stupid… I’m sorry Dean. It’s just. I was so shocked. He didn’t even recognize me…” You felt Dean’s hand squeeze yours briefly in reassurance. 

“I know. Cas and I have a theory about that.” You looked up at him and he took the cue to continue, “We know that when the wraith fed on him it caused brain damage, Cas thinks that it damaged the hippo-something and his prefrontal lobe, where all of his short term memory would be stored. Which is why he doesn’t remember you.” You looked back down at your food, suddenly not as hungry as you had been before all the brain-eating talk. “Cas was able to fix what was missing, but the damage is still there, his short term memory before now is almost all gone.” 

“So he still doesn’t remember me?” Dean shook his head. 

“He doesn’t remember anything up to a few weeks before the two of you met. So about nine months are missing.” You could feel tears pooling in your eyes and Dean’s hand was on your shoulder, as he tried to comfort you in his own stoic kind of way. “But we will find a way to get it back? Okay (y/n)? He will remember you again. Cas and I have no intention of giving up. And even though he doesn’t remember you exactly, Sammy won’t rest until he gets his memories back. Okay? We’ll get through this.” 

When Sam had been released from the hospital a few days later you had avoided him as much as you could until he had confronted you about it when you got back to the bunker. He was as comforting as he could have been to someone that was a stranger to him. You had gone straight to your shared room and started moving your things into a spare bedroom, but he had stopped you from taking everything. You could tell that he wanted desperately to remember, that the blank space in his head was bothering him to no end. He asked you to leave some of your things, pictures, nicknacks and small keep sakes, that maybe they would help him remember some of what he’d lost. 

That night you cried yourself to sleep in the room next to his, feeling the empty space next to you acutely. And you continued to exist like this. Avoiding him subtly, researching tirelessly, and crying often on nights where you couldn’t sleep without him next to you. Until one night you heard the door to your guest room creak open, you glanced at the clock, it was almost 2 in the morning, there was no reason for anyone to be here. You grabbed the handle of the knife you slept with firmly under the pillow, and blinked away the tears so you could see properly. But before you could turn and confront whoever had invaded your room the bed creaked and a large familiar arms wrapped themselves around you. Sam. You curved your body against his instinctively, he didn’t say anything so you just accepted that he was here to stay for now and slept well for the first night in a week. 

The next morning you woke up next to Sam and had to remind yourself not to kiss him good morning, that he was probably only there because he pitied you. But that thought was gone when you felt him stir next to you, wrapping himself around your waist, kissing your hair gently before getting up and going down for breakfast. Neither of you said anything at the table that morning about that night, or any other morning when you consistently found Sam next to you in your bed at night, settling into a quiet routine. He began to ask you questions about yourself when you weren’t researching, and the two of you made a game of it, almost like 20 questions at breakfast. And you both existed like that with Dean giving you the space you needed and helping where he could.   

And that brought you to now. Four weeks later, and after so many sleepless nights and coffee driven days, the four of you hadn’t found anything. Even though you and Sam were reconnecting a little, he still didn’t remember anything. Cas assured you all that it was very unlikely that he would regain anything major; the pathways that had existed were gone, and short of planting fake memories in his head, there was little that Cas could do to grow them back. 

You surveyed the stack of books in front of you deciding which looked the most promising when something caught your eye in the stack. There was a leather bound journal sitting off to the side of the stack, you didn’t remember putting it there for reading, but maybe one of the boys had left it there thinking there might be something useful. 

Grabbing the book you started perusing it, skimming for anything that might be helpful. It was the journal of a men of letters from back in the day, and it was all scrawled handwritten notes and sketches, but in there somewhere you found what had to be the first lead you had had in weeks. Jumping up you ran from the library to the war room where Dean and Sam were reading. They both looked up alarmed at your apparent excitement. 

“What’s wrong (y/n)?” Sam asked, setting down the book he’d been reading. 

“I think I found a lead.” You could tell that you had their full attention when they both leaned forward in their seats. “This guy’s journal, in it he talks about this thing called African Dream Root,” Sam and Dean exchanged quick glances, and you paused “What?” 

“No,” Dean said, “go on.” 

“Well is lets you enter someone else’s dreams right? Hence the name, but what if we could use it too look at someone’s memories. Sam can’t see the last few months through his own eyes, but what if he could see them through someone else’s?” 

Both of the boys sat back, taking in what you’d said. “That’s not actually a terrible idea.” Dean finally concluded. “Sam?” 

“If we can find a way to be safe about it I don’t see why not. But how do you suggest we alter the way the root works? I mean we’ve both used it before, and it only lets you walk in someone else’s dreams. So how do we use it on memory?” You looked back and forth between them and shrugged, losing some of the hope and excitement from your findings. 

It was Dean who finally broke the silence, stroking his scruff thoughtfully. “What about Cas?” Sam looked at him puzzled. “He’s able to wipe people’s minds. What if we used the root and Cas together. He induces the dreams, but makes them memories of the last few months, and the root lets you walk through them and see what you’re missing?” 

You all thought for a moment, trying to find flaws in the logic, but finding none, Dean called Cas and asked him if it was possible. 

“ I do not see why I should not be able to do that.” 

“Awesome. You two go get ready to take a nap and I’ll go get the dream root from the store room. And Cas— you do whatever it is you need to do to power up.” Cas nodded at Dean as he walked from the room. The three of you headed to what had been your and Sam’s room up until recently, and got ready for what you hoped would be a renewing nap. 

You handed Dean the hair he would need and lay down on the bed, you could feel Sam sitting next to you, and then Cas’ hand was on your forehead and then black as the induced sleep washed over you.


	3. Dream a Little Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the game of "will it/won't it?" begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the finale to “Remember Me” and “Some Assembly Required.” This has taken, probably way too long to put together, but after some soul searching, several drafts, and long nights pacing around my room- it is finally done and hopefully ready for your reading. I hope you all enjoy the ending as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Also: if this looks familiar it's because I typically write on Tumblr. and recently have been uploading some of my stuff here with the hopes of getting more traffic on my fics, so not stealing, I'm Writing-For-The-Winchesters on Tumblr. so just an fyi.

When Sam woke up he didn’t feel any different. There weren’t any new memories resting in his mind; there wasn’t even the light buzz that typically came with using Dream Root. He sat up slowly, looking around the room, Dean was dozing in the armchair by the bookshelf and Cas was standing at the foot of the bed staring at him intently. **  
**

“Well, Sam did it work? Do you remember anything from before the accident?” Cas asked.

“I—” Sam let out a long sigh as he wrecked his brain, searching for anything that could resemble a memory of the previous nine months. “No. There’s nothing there Cas. I don’t understand. I don’t even remember dreaming—” Cas cocked his head to the side looking at him curiously. 

“What do you mean you don’t remember dreaming? The Dream Root should have—”

“I know. But my head is as blank as it was before.” Sam looked down at (y/n) who was still asleep next to him. “God, what am I going to tell her?” 

“I don’t know Sam, but if your memories can’t be brought back she may just have to learn to live with that.” 

“Cas, I know I love her,” he looked up at the angel sadly, “I just can’t remember why, I mean I’m starting to again, sure, but there’s time there, she’s— she’s in a different place in this relationship than I am, and it kills me to watch her stop herself from doing the little things, you know.” Cas nodded understandingly. “She’s trying so hard to be at the same place as I am, and it means so much, but I don’t know how much of this she can take.” 

“Sam, I know you’re worried about her, and it’s going to take time, but I think she’s a lot stronger than you think, I think her love for you is a lot stronger than you realize.” Cas reached out and squeezed Sam’s shoulder, “It’s going to work out, just give it some time.” Sam nodded appreciatively. Cas removed his hand and waking Dean he whispered something softly in his ear. Dean shot Sam an apologetic look, and the two of them left the room to give him the space to break the news to (y/n). 

She woke a few minutes after Dean and Cas left, groaning quietly as she curled up into a ball, like she was resisting consciousness. Sam smiled softly at her half awake form, and placing a hand on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles across her skin, woke her up carefully. He’d spent the last few minutes thinking about what he was going to say to her, and he still wasn’t completely sure about that, but he knew watching her now that no matter what he said he needed her to know that he loved her, with or without his memories. 

“(y/n), sweetheart, time to wake up.” 

“Just five more minutes….” Sam chuckled a little, and lifting her up off the bed he pulled her onto his lap, cradling her in his arms. 

“No honey, you have to get up now, we need to talk baby.” She opened her eyes tentatively testing the light, and finding it suitably dim opened them, looking up at Sam. 

“Is that a good ‘we need to talk’ or a bad ‘we need to talk’?” Sam looked away for a moment, collecting his thoughts. 

“(y/n) I want you to know, that no matter what, I” he took a deep breath before going on, (y/n) watching him closely, “I love you. And there’s a lot of this relationship that’s new to me, but I love you.”

Her eyes were wide at the sudden declaration, the l-word had been something they had been dancing around for the last month and as much as she was thrilled to hear it, (y/n) picked up the underlying message in what Sam was saying to her. She picked herself up from his arms, moving to walk around the room, needing some air. This had been their last shot, and it hadn’t worked. Sam was watching her movements from the bed, worry was etched in his face. 

“It didn’t work.” he winced a little, and shook his head. 

“No.” 

“I see.” Sam could hear her voice waver a little bit and knew she was holding back tears. He stood, crossed the room, and folded her into his large arms. 

“I’m so sorry (y/n)…. I’m so so sorry.” Sam whispered again and again, sobbing gently with her. They stood there for awhile like that, just holding each other, trying to comfort the other’s pain. 

“Why do you keep saying that?” 

“Hmm?” 

“That you’re sorry? This isn’t your fault, it’s mine, I should have been more useful, gotten to you faster, killed the bitch sooner….” 

“No, no you can’t blame yourself like that. This isn’t anyone but that monster’s fault, sweetheart please. Don’t blame yourself.” 

“Then why do you keep apologizing?” 

“Because, this has been hard, especially on you (y/n). And— I don’t know. It hurts to see you like this. I feel like I should do something, say something and fix it. I want to fix it. But I don’t know how to.” She looked up at Sam, eyes just starting to dry, and for the first time in the last month he saw a little bit of hope there. Not the kind of hope that they were going to fix it and everything would be okay. That the past would fix the future. The kind of hope that said there was a future even if the present was a mess. 

The rest of the day was passed quietly. Sam and (y/n) spent most of it curled up on the leather sofa in the library where Dean had set up a projector and screen so they could watch tv. At the moment they were in the middle of Downton Abbey, a show which (y/n) loved terribly and while neither of the boys would admit it, they loved it just as much. But after the mental exhaustion that had come with the news that their shot at a cure hadn’t worked, everyone was dozing in and out of consciousness; and after putting up a good fight to try and see if Lord Grantham was going to hook up with the new maid, Sam crashed, head resting against the arm of the couch.

(y/n) couldn’t help but stare a little bit at the huge moose that was now snoring next to her. Deciding it was probably time to call it a night, she removed herself from his arms, careful not to wake him, and padded back to their room to change for bed. 

Sam’s dreams weren’t peaceful. They were bright and flashing like a strobe going off in his head. They were loud and painful, and there was no discernible order to them. One moment he was running headlong into a burning building, the next he was lying in the sun on a picnic blanket, and the moment after that he was pinned to the ground, fighting for his life. Then out of the cacophony of screams, laughs, and voices, someone was calling his name, pulling him away from the noises and lights. 

“Sam! Sammy! Sam wake up! Sammy look at me!” Sam could feel strong hands on his shoulders shaking him out of the clip-show like dream he’d been in. Dean came into focus slowly, he was hovering over Sam nervously and (y/n) and Cas weren’t too far behind him. “Sammy? You—” 

Before Dean could finish the sentence Sam felt a stabbing pain rush through his head, and he couldn’t help the half strangled scream that came from his lips, his hands clutching at the sides of his head like it would made the pain stop, then suddenly it did; and a strange sensation consumed him, as memories and feelings came rushing back. (y/n), Dean, and Cas were now standing around him in a half circle, he swung himself into a sitting position on the couch, and after taking a moment to absorb the new memories that were flooding his head he spoke. 

“It’s all there…” The others looked at him a little confused but half hopeful while he continued, “the last nine months, or at least some of it,” he looked directly at (y/n) now, “oh sweetheart…” Sam stood quickly, probably too quickly, and he had to take a second to rebalance and stop his head from spinning, but when he did he encased (y/n) in his arms, pulling her flush against him, and then pulled back, just enough to kiss her eagerly, like a soldier coming home from the front. 

When he pulled back Sam was breathless, but he didn’t want to stop kissing her, there was so much that was coming back to him, and he felt the desperate need in that moment to make up for lost time. But she held him back, arms wrapped around his waist, a curious look poised on her face. 

“Sammy? What’s— do you remember— what do you remember?” Her voice shook gently, either from breathlessness or nerves, but Sam understood her apprehension. This wasn’t something anyone was expecting. Still catching his breath Sam responded slowly, taking some time to replay the memories that had just popped into his mind. 

“I— not a lot, but enough to get a general picture of the last few months. It’s like looking through a picture album you know? Because none of them are from anyones perspective, but it’s like looking at little clips, and there’s enough there to make an almost full picture.” She nodded understandingly, and pressed her face into his chest holding onto him for dear life. 

“Never go again.” 

“I won’t baby, I promise.”

* * *

 

“(y/n), please you need to get some rest.” 

“Dean I’m not going to leave him here like this.” 

“This isn’t your fault.” 

“We’ve been through this Dean. Yes it is. This is all my fault. Don’t pretend it isn’t.” Dean just shook his head and left the room where his brother was lying comatose, and (y/n) was keeping vigil over him. He slumped through the bunker down to the library, where Cas was reading quietly. It had been two days now since they had tried to bring back Sam’s memories, and none of them really knew what had happened, but (y/n) and Cas had woken up perfectly fine, they remembered walking through (y/n)’s memories with Sam, the little moments, and the passionate  nights, some of which had Cas blushing. But they had come out of it unscathed, but his brother. Sam hadn’t shown any signs of waking up as of yet. 

The last two days had been spent researching hopelessly and trying to get (y/n) to leave Sam’s side. But both attempts had been fruitless so far. Now all they could do was wait it out. He collapsed into a chair next to Cas; putting his head down on the table Dean could feel the light embrace of sleep start to curl into his senses. The gentle pats from Cas’ hand his back is what sent him spiraling into his own dreams. 

A loud slam at the front door was what woke Dean in the end. He was spread out on the couch, he didn’t remember that, but Cas must have moved him. The library was dark, there were storm clouds visible in the windows that lined the very top of the room. There were more slams, which at this point Dean could equate with doors being opened and closed, like someone was systematically looking through all of the rooms in the bunker. 

“Dean!” a familiar voice shouted followed by heavy footsteps that echoed through the tiled halls. Dean jumped off the couch, running and sliding his way to the battle room where he found Sam, looking like hell. But his little brother had finally woken up. Somewhere in Dean’s periphery Cas fluttered into the room. But there was a glaring absence in the room that made Dean uneasy. 

“My god. You’re awake.” 

“What? Of course I’m awake—”

“You’ve been out for almost three days Sam.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Dean’s not lying. (y/n) and I woke up like normal, but you didn’t and you’ve been lying comatose since. (y/n) hasn’t left your side since.” 

“Then where is she now? I’ve looked everywhere. She’s gone.” 

“What are you talking about, she was practically glued to your bedside Sam, she wouldn’t disappear like that.” 

“You heard her Dean, after we woke up.” 

“Heard her what?” 

“She’s been blaming herself for all of this. She feels like she’s failed you, like she should have been able to fix this. But we all know that’s ridiculous.” 

“Of course, none of this is her fault, but if she was blaming herself that much… You don’t think she’d just leave do you?” 

“I’m not so sure that she wouldn’t leave. If she truly thought that she was to blame for all that’s happened she might feel more out of place here than if she was somewhere else hunting alone again.” 

There was a loud bang that snapped the trio out of their conversation and look up to see (y/n) trudging in, soaked through. She was trailing a soaked trench coat behind her, and her eyes held a glazed over quality to them. She descended the stairs slowly, her feet slamming into each of the metal steps lazily. 

“(y/n)”. Her name was a breathless whisper on Sam’s lips, but she didn’t hear. She didn’t even seem to see any of them, not really. Not until she got down to the bottom of the stairs, looked between Cas and Dean, and then, did a double take seeing Sam standing there. 

“Sam? You’re… you’re here. You’re awake.” The glaze that had coated her eyes became wet and tears glistened in her eyes. 

“Yeah baby, I’m here.” He crossed the room, and this time, for real, pulled her into his arms. “Where did you go honey?” 

“I just needed some air….” She looked down at her wet clothes, “It’s raining…” 

“I can tell. You okay baby? You scared me.” 

“I scared you? You’ve been passed out for three days. I didn’t think—”

“I’m sorry baby. But I promise, it’s going to be okay now. It’s all going to be okay.” Sam just held her for a minute, taking in the smell of her hair and warming her up from her walk in the rain. But then he answered the question on everyone’s mind. 

“I remember.” It came out a lot more simply than he’d imagined it would, but there wasn’t too much more to be said. “Well. I remember a lot, not everything. But it’s coming back to me.” 

Dean was the first one to break the silence that followed, “Well good. Now I won’t have to watch the two of you mope around here like you’re kicked puppies or something. But all that aside, I think this calls for some celebration, what’d you say Cas?” He hit the angel hard on the shoulder and pulled him along through to the kitchen, leaving (y/n) and Sam alone while he pulled out the good scotch. 

“You really remember?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and hopeful. 

“Mhmmm, and you know what?” 

“What?” 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too Sammy.”


End file.
